December's Children
by felinefemme
Summary: There is an expression, "cold-blooded." It's just as apt for reptiles as it is for her partner.
1. Coldblooded

Title: December's Children  
  
Author: FelineFemme  
  
She stares up at the sky, which has turned as gray as her eyes, and shivers under her trenchcoat. Impatiently, she brushes her long black hair from her face as the wind whips it carelessly about. Where is that man? she wonders. She can't have beaten him to the punch that easily, there's something almost supernatural in the way Amon hunts his quarry, the way he hunts down their assignments without wasting a drop of orbo. No, maybe "supernatural" isn't quite what she's thinking of. There is an expression, "cold-blooded." It's just as apt for reptiles as it is for her partner.  
  
The tall woman readjusts her earpiece. "Amon," she says, pulling out her orbo-loaded gun as she sights their target, "where the hell are you?"  
  
No answer. So, playing it cool, as usual. Damn, I'm supposed to be your partner, so where's my backup? "Amon, I see him," she says, adding, "Michael, you read me?" The target, a middle-aged man with a slight limp, sees her and runs into an alley.  
  
A quick hiss of static, and the teen's voice comes through. "I read you. Amon should be there by now."  
  
Duh, she's about to retort. Before she can say anything, though, the witch manifests his powers, and she's thrown back by the force of the mini- earthquake. "Dammit!"  
  
Once she gets somewhat stabilized, she shoots at the witch, who does his earth-shaking thing again. But she nails him, and while the old man's winded, she shoots a couple more times. A familiar figure in black appears at the other end of the alley, and lowers his gun when he sees the situation's been taken care of.  
  
"Kate," is all he says, and from that one word, she's not sure if he's relieved, worried, or displeased. Without a word, he signals the Factory men to come and claim the target, and walks off without an explanation.  
  
Cold-blooded, all right. Too bad that applies to her as well as him. 


	2. Just lucky

"Looks like you're slipping, Amon," Sakaki grins when the dark-haired man walks in. "Kate practically bagged the baddie all by herself."  
  
Amon, of course, says nothing to the teen's mild jab, while the chief takes the opportunity to berate Doujima. "See, if you'd show more initiative, your performance could be like that," the bald man barks at the blonde girl, who's currently polishing her nails. "You've been here longer than she has, and already she's surpassed you."  
  
"That's okay," Doujima replies blithely, waving her hand to dry off her nails, "I'll just pick up her slack." She winks at the black-haired woman, who smiles slightly.  
  
"That's all you've been doing, slacking!" Chief Shintaro Kosaka shouts, and stomps off, a number of veins on his bald head already dangerously throbbing.  
  
"So tell us, Amon, what's your excuse for showing up late?" Doujima teases. Sakaki, always scolded for various newbie mistakes, is leaning forward, while Karasuma tries to be more discreet, but still turns towards their leader to hear his side of the story.  
  
Kate crosses her arms somewhat indifferently, but she's also curious, since her so-called partner never bothered to explain himself during cleanup. Only Michael isn't listening, because he's still got his headset on to his usual ear-bleeding levels. Speed metal with a techno edge, she thinks, for the resident techno wiz.  
  
Amon glances down at his coworkers, his gaze stopping at his partner, who's leaning against a desk and almost eye level with him. "Guess she was lucky today," is all he says in his maddening monotone before heading to the conference room.  
  
Fine, play it like that, you bastard, she thinks, following him. The others, including Michael, stand and follow after them, feeling slightly like they've missed the subtext. 


	3. Next assignment

Inside the conference room, Zaizen is standing there, looking like the benevolent and omniscient father of this mostly youthful group. His baggy eyes flicker over to the long-haired woman, and more wrinkles crease his face as he smiles. "Congratulations, Kate, on a job well-done," he says, and the others smile or give encouraging looks, having already congratulated her earlier. Well, everyone except Amon, who's even stingier with his praises than Zaizen. "Now, we have another assignment. Michael?"  
  
The red-haired hacker nods, his orange-tinted glasses absorbing the bluish- greens of the monitors. "Our next subject is Michio Kono, age 42, former home designer. His DNA has him linked to three witches using the Craft, specifically the Ring of Ogham. There've been a number of unusual deaths in his neighborhood, so you might want to talk to his family first."  
  
Amon barely nods. "Karasuma and Sakaki, talk to his family. Doujima and Kate, check out the police records on those deaths. Michael, you will keep us apprised of anything new."  
  
"And where will you be?" Kate asks, raising her eyebrows slightly.  
  
"Checking out Kono's former employers," he says. The dark-haired man stands up and glances around the raised table. "Let's go." He doesn't wait for everyone to get up before he leaves the office.  
  
"Is it me, or is Amon trying to save his words more than usual?" Doujima asks as they go back into the office.  
  
"Maybe he overslept," Sakaki shrugs before grabbing his gun.  
  
"Amon doesn't sleep," Michael says, "at least, he doesn't seem to. He calls me in the middle of the night sometimes, grabbing a new lead before I do occasionally."  
  
"That explains it," Karasuma says, "lack of sleep sometimes leads to irritability."  
  
Kate looks at them. "He's always acted like this, ever since I've been here," she says, "you mean he's never had a second of sleep?"  
  
The others look mildly shocked, until Karasuma, usually the most polite of the bunch, starts to laugh, covering her mouth as she does so. Doujima's giggles and Sakaki's guffaws, along with Michael's chuckles fill the office. "Don't let him hear you say that," Karasuma says when she's calmed down somewhat, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh, Kate, is it really that hard, being his partner?"  
  
She shrugs. "He acts no different towards me than towards the rest of you," she lies smoothly, "I suppose he's more used to working over people than with them."  
  
Karasuma nods, willing to accept that everybody's happy in their status quo. Kate still marvels at this girl, who's only a year younger than she is, yet acts older than Amon sometimes. Again, she thinks of the family analogy that seems to apply so well to this misfit group at STN-J: Zaizen as Father-Knows-Best, the chief as the irascible uncle, Amon's the Big Brother, Miho being the Big Sister, along with the bratty Yurika and impulsive Haruto as the kids, with Michael being the literal wise guy in the bunch. The perfect sitcom family, Kate thinks cynically. "Haruto, you ready?" the would-be big sister asks.  
  
He nods. "Good luck, guys," he waves, and Kate waves back as she waits for Doujima to grab her usual silly stack of fashion magazines. Maybe she'll borrow them this time, since the cops are notorious for being stingy with their info once the STN-J is put on the case. 


	4. New & improved

"I guess your powers are improving," Doujima remarks as they park in front of the Kyoto police station. "I mean, if you were able to beat Amon, you could be raised to an S-class hunter!" Her blue eyes sparkle as she practically skips up the steps.  
  
One of these days, I'll get her a t-shirt reading "Perky as Hell" on it, see if she wears it, Kate sighs inwardly. "I hope so," she says modestly, even as she surreptitiously scans the girl's purse. Omigod, how many tubes of lipstick does she need? she wonders as she follows the blonde into the station. Yes, her powers are getting stronger, she's not even straining as she looks behind the walls, seeing cops clock in, chat around the water cooler, hustle suspects through, and use the restroom. Ew, didn't need to see that last one, she thinks, hiding her grimace as Doujima steps up to the counter.  
  
"Hi, we're from the STN-J," the blonde says, sounding very unconvincing in her spoiled rich girl manner. "We'd like to take a look at those autopsy reports from a couple nights ago."  
  
"Well, now, little lady," the clerk leers, "I don't think you'd like seeing icky pictures like that. But I've got some pictures I'm sure you'd like."  
  
Kate really doesn't want to waste time with this low-life, and narrows her gray eyes, using her Craft. "Please get yourself a new copy of that magazine, it's rather soiled," she says as the man's jaw drops, "and we'd like to see those autopsy reports. Now."  
  
He almost falls over himself jumping out of his chair, and they hear something like a magazine fall to the ground before he slips on it. "Y- yes," he stammers, leaving the two women standing there, bemused.  
  
"Wow," Doujima looks up at her, her blue eyes big, "your powers are getting stronger."  
  
Kate pastes a smile on her face. "Whatever will make him move faster," she says, "besides, he was really creeping me out."  
  
The blonde girl nods her assent, wrinkling her nose, "Yeah, I can't believe they let such a pervert work here."  
  
Kate nods back, crossing her arms, itching to do something. She knows her impatience is almost as bad as Haruto's, but at least she knows when to act and when not to. "If Kono's really using a Ring of Ogham to do his work, I hope it shows up on the reports," she sighs.  
  
"We could always send in folks from the Factory to check out the bodies if the reports don't have anything useful," Doujima pipes in helpfully.  
  
Duh, Kate thinks, but aloud says, "Let's just see what the reports have to say."  
  
Then the pervert, that is, the clerk, comes back with the autopsy folders. "Here you go," he says, handing them over. Kate's glad she's wearing gloves, and takes them from him between her thumb and forefinger. It seems he can't leave fast enough when their business is done. 


	5. Deskwork

Back at the office, Kate is poring over the autopsy reports, the blonde girl having tossed the whole thing at her. "One thing the pervert was right about, I really don't want to see those gory pictures," she'd said, walking off with an issue of "Vogue" in hand. Kate had shaken her head, but wasn't surprised. That girl will find a way to weasel out of anything, she thinks, but doesn't mind. She enjoys reading as quickly as Michael does, with just as much committed to memory. "What kind of Ring was he using?" she murmurs to herself, flipping through page after page on the clinically described bodies. There doesn't seem to be anything unusual about the deaths, in fact, it seemed downright mundane.  
  
A ringtone interrupts her musings, and she sits up, brushing her long hair back as Michael takes the call. "Michael," Karasuma's level voice says over the line, "Mrs. Kono reports having vacuumed sand from her husband's room several times. The last time she tried, however, she broke her hip. She said she probably slipped on sand outside his room, but it's very likely it's the result of using his Craft."  
  
"I see," Michael says, "I'll pass that on to Amon, then."  
  
"Have you heard anything from him?" she asks.  
  
"Not yet," the hacker replies, "I'm guessing he's still talking with Kono's former employers. Any luck?" he turns to Kate.  
  
The black-haired woman shakes her head. "They look like mugging victims, actually, not really witch victims. Maybe there's something they overlooked -- oh!" she says, looking back down at the report, then back to one of the photos.  
  
"What is it?" Michael asks.  
  
"Sand," she says, "they're not specific, but I'm guessing that's what Kono used." She looks at him, "None of the victims were found anywhere near a beach, but it was discounted because they were all found at construction sites."  
  
"Which would have a lot of sand, as well as other building materials," Michael finishes, "Karasuma, I'm going to run a check on all of Kono's coworkers, see if any are missing. Talk to you later." Then he opens another connection, dialing their leader. When there's no answer, he resorts to text messaging him. "Amon, are you there? It's possible Kono will strike at another construction site. Have you found anything from his workplace? I'm going to check a list of his coworkers."  
  
"He's pulling his famous Incommunicado Act, isn't he?" Kate says, not surprised.  
  
Michael nods, the fluorescent lights bouncing off his orange-tinted glasses. "Not for long. I'm sure once he finds something good, he'll pass it along." Already his fingers are flying over the keyboard, and he only pauses to put his earphones back in and turn his CD player back on. 


	6. The hunt

About half an hour later, Amon calls Michael, who patches the call in to the rest of the group. "I've tracked Kono to the Hamakura construction site. Report in once you arrive."  
  
"Finally," Kate says, stretching as she stands. "Yurika, coming?" she calls out.  
  
"No, you go ahead," the blonde girl calls back, "I'll keep Michael company."  
  
"In other words, she's going to bond with her latest fashion magazine," Michael smirks.  
  
Grabbing her coat, Kate waves at the red-headed hacker. "Well, maybe we'll get lucky and get two in a day," she smiles.  
  
Michael waves back. "Good luck." He watches as she walks out the door, her long black hair swaying against her back, then replaces the earphones.  
  
It isn't long before she arrives at the Hamakura building, or at least, the wooden board walls surrounding it. She opens up her comm and reports, "I'm here. What's going on?"  
  
Karasuma's relatively calm voice answers her. "Amon and Sakaki chased him to the second floor, but I haven't heard from either of them. I'm going in."  
  
"Wait for me," Kate says, "I'm at the entrance." She pushes past the boards that block her, and sees the short-haired woman checking her gun. "Ready?"  
  
Karasuma nods, and they go in, weapons at the ready. Despite being a shell of a building, there is no illumination from the outside, and no apparent electricity within, and she flicks on a flashlight. "See anything?"  
  
Kate narrows her eyes, and the darkness is dark no longer. "Haruto's down," she reports, "near the base of the stairs, but I don't see Amon." She tilts her head up, and then she frowns. "Nothing so far, but they've got to be up there somewhere." She grabs Karasuma's hand and leads her to where the unconscious boy is lying. "Is he okay?"  
  
The short-haired woman checks his pulse, then his eyes. "I think so," she says, then feels around the boy's head, her hand coming away bloody. "I'm calling in an ambulance," she says, "look for Amon."  
  
Kate nods and races upstairs without a flashlight. She scans the room with the aid of her Craft, but finds no one. An odd stillness in the air has her extra careful, and she walks slowly from empty room to empty room. "Amon?" she says in a low voice, trusting him to hear her through the earpiece, her finger on the trigger as she points the gun in classic cop stance.  
  
Nothing. Dammit, did they just fly out the window? Or disappear? How did Miho completely miss their exit?  
  
Unless.... 


	7. The web

"Kate, I'm coming up," she hears Karasuma from the earpiece. Kate turns and sees a flashlight's glare bouncing off the walls from the stairwell.  
  
"I don't see either of them," Kate says, frustrated, when the other woman joins her. "I don't understand."  
  
Karasuma shakes her head. "I don't, either. I told some of the paramedics to stay, just in case."  
  
"Great," Kate says, looking around. "Perhaps they left through another exit."  
  
The short-haired woman shakes her head. "The way we came in is the only way out. According to Amon, construction hasn't gone as far as to create an emergency exit on the second floor yet."  
  
"Great," Kate repeats, "I double-checked all but these last two rooms." She points at the two near the open window at the end of the hallway. "Be careful."  
  
"You, too," Karasuma tells her, and they enter with guns drawn.  
  
"Dammit," Kate says, finding nothing in her room. "Nobody in my room. Miho?"  
  
The pause at the other end stretches out. "Michael, can you check if Miho's earpiece is on?"  
  
There's a slight crackle, and Michael replies, "It's on, but maybe she took it off."  
  
"I doubt it," Kate replies, and inhales before walking slowly into Karasuma's room. Inside, she finds Amon standing as if confronting their target, and Miho with her gun drawn. But there is nobody at the end of their intense focus, and there is no movement from either of them. "Oh, no."  
  
"Another fly in the web," an unfamiliar voice says, as Kate feels the power of someone else's Craft overpower her with a Ring of Ogham. 


	8. Rendezvous

"God, that was so embarrassing," Kate sighs, rotating her neck. She doesn't look bothered, but she is, even as she waits in her car. To be trapped in a Ring like a novice Craft user, that shouldn't have happened. She doesn't feel too bad that Amon was caught in it first, but still, it stings that something as trite like that got her. Which means, of course, that the hunt is still on, but, minus the target and any new leads, everyone was sent home after being checked for injuries.  
  
Kate, however, isn't home, but in her car, waiting for her shady informant on the outskirts of the Walled City. She feels like she's sneaking out, like in her old days. This time, she isn't stealing cheap jewelry, but stealing access to something infinitely more precious. And she's stopped reporting to Solomon HQ quite some time ago, despite getting closer to her, and their, goal.  
  
She sees him coming, even when he's trying to be mysterious and subtle, which is almost laughable from one of Methuselah's witches. The shifty looking man in the ragged clothes pulls out a piece of parchment from his smelly coat, but shoves it back inside before she can get beyond a cursory glance of Ogham scribbles. "7500 yen," he says, holding out a hand covered by a grubby glove.  
  
"Getting ambitious, aren't we," Kate says. "I doubt the information is that good."  
  
"It should be, I nearly got killed for the damn thing," the man says, his eyes continually traveling around the alley. "Well?" He holds his gloved hand out again.  
  
"Fine," she snaps, counting out an extra 2500 yen. But she doesn't pass it over until the parchment is in her hands.  
  
The man doesn't wait to count his money or even thank her, he takes off as soon as his hand closes over the bills. Either he's way too paranoid tonight, or he's got good reason to run. Kate takes his cue and peels out of there, intending on parsing through the document when she gets to her tiny apartment. 


	9. Sleepless

The next morning, Kate walks into the office, and yawns. "Good morning," she sighs.  
  
"Boy, you sound like Doujima," Sakaki grins, and Kate makes a face at him.  
  
"I've made some coffee," Hattori offers, and the long-haired woman merely nods, not trusting her naturally caustic tongue to curb itself should she talk. She follows him to the kitchen and helps herself to a strong cup of coffee. "Um, you might want to add some cream," the office clerk suggests, but is ignored as he watches her down the coffee with only two teaspoons of sugar. "Oh my."  
  
"Thank you," is all she says, and now he nods as she follows the rest of the group into the conference room with her cup half full.  
  
Kate sits down at the raised table, and listens with half an ear as Amon cautions the Hunters about stepping into the Ring of Ogham, and that they were lucky to have escaped with no injuries. She watches as Michael calls up various autopsy images of the victims, along with the construction sites, theorizing that Kono's bitterness at having been laid off is the cause. No, really, she thinks, not even listening anymore.  
  
Not that this case is the thing catching her attention now. It's the way everyone looks. Or rather, how they don't look. She blinks, but she can see right through them. Like she's got on X-ray glasses or something, everyone is rendered as skeletons, their jewelry or glasses standing out like garish décor. Even the furniture looks like outlines of themselves, and Kate has to stifle the hysterical giggle that threatens to spill from her lips, as even the dignified Zaizen looks like, well, a skeletal ghost of himself. This isn't the first time her Craft has manifested itself as such, it's just the first time she's never summoned it, and it both frightens and exhilarates her. Casually, she looks into Zaizen's office to see if there's anything interesting. Bummer, all the papers are lying flat so she can't read them. Oh well, another time.  
  
"Kate? Kate?" Sakaki is waving a hand, normal this time, in front of her face. "The meeting's over."  
  
"Sorry, had a hard time sleeping last night," Kate says half-truthfully. Not that she's going to tell the team of the all-nighter she spent studying spells, then burning them, to augment her Craft. Maybe she should've waited until after they caught Kono, but she didn't want to risk the parchment being found in her possession. In the meantime, she's borrowing a page from Yurika's book.  
  
Karasuma nods, "Me, too. But if we're going to catch Kono, we have to be on our toes."  
  
Kate nods back, "Guess I'll need another cup of Hattori's coffee."  
  
She pretends not to notice Amon's look of disdain, or rather, his usual lack of friendly expression. If he smiles, his face might crack, she thinks, and again has to stifle the hysterical giggles. She'd better get some sleep tonight before she turns into a raving hyena. 


	10. Respite

At Harry's, Kate decides to have a decent cup of coffee and catch up on a semblance of a normal life. She takes a magazine and today's paper from the counter and walks over to one of the window tables. Sunlight. Humans. Traffic. Normal people going about their normal lives, unaware of witches, or Hunters, or the Solomon, or the secrets buried within that organization. At times, she almost envied those ignorant creatures. At times. She flips through the newspaper and shakes her head. And at times, it seems humans are doing very well to destroy themselves without the help of witches. There are more reports of scandals, murders, and man-made plagues that have nothing to do with witches, and, in a sense, she's glad she doesn't have to deal with that. Witches are such a select breed, especially since it's been over three hundred years since the coven went underground, and the STN-J deals with only the dangerous ones, not the everyday muddle of criminals roaming the streets. Boy, she'd be depressed if she were a regular cop if she had to deal with the everyday rabble.  
  
The owner brings over a steaming mug of French coffee and sighs when he sees what she's reading. "Sometimes I wonder if I should continue to stock those," he says in his gentle voice.  
  
"Don't stop," she says, "we need reminders of why we're doing our jobs. So people like these," she folds the paper and points to a marathon winner, "can go about their lives. Even if most people notice stories like these," she refolds the paper to the front page. Nice, almost Miss America-type answer, but it's relatively safe. And it was the reason why she joined the Solomon organization, but not why she's staying in it.  
  
The old man chuckles. "I'm surprised you still look at the world that way, even after being a part of the STN-J."  
  
She smiles back, but for different reasons. "I have to. Otherwise, I'd go a little mad." Her smile widens. "Not that I don't look at the world a little differently anyways."  
  
The old man shakes his head. "Don't lose sight of what's important," he reminds her, and pats her shoulder.  
  
I never have, she thinks, I've always looked out for myself. "Thanks for the coffee," she says, stirring syrup into her drink. Kate watches as the owner glides away, then flips idly through the magazine. Sometimes she gazes outside, watching the traffic increase for rush hour, and the normal humans going about their normal lives, before returning to the magazine. Sometimes she idly runs a hand through her long black hair, and smiles briefly when the owner refills her cup.  
  
Despite the caffeination, it isn't long before her eyelids droop, and she rests a heavy head on her hand. None of the regulars mind the dozing woman, as she looks graceful asleep as she does awake, almost picture perfect in repose. Even the owner is loathe to wake her, since the dark circles under eyes made him give her decaf rather than pure French roast. It isn't until her communicator shrilly beeps that she startles awake. 


	11. I See

She had woken up to darkness, and she thought her Craft was acting up again. Instead, it was merely the proprietor of Harry's being kind in his mistaken way. She'd answered the call of the hunt with as much clarity as she could muster, grabbed her coat and keys, paid the owner, and drove off to the site where Sakaki, reckless soul that he is, jumped the gun.  
  
Kate narrows her gray eyes as she gets out of the car and walks up to the first construction site, allowing the Craft to assert itself. Like a cat, she walks confidently in the night, gun pointed out and down, as she moves in. "Kate here, I'm in position," she reports into her earpiece.  
  
"Gotchya," Michael replies, as Karasuma reports her positions and Amon, as usual, does not. "I still haven't heard from Haruto yet. Move in carefully."  
  
"Copy that," Kate replies, and keeps her eyes open for any signs of the Craft, especially a Ring of Ogham, about the place. A noise startles her, and she spins, gun pointed at the origin of the sound. Nothing. Great.  
  
Every so often, Karasuma checks in her position, which is the other side of the building from where Kate is. Finally, she says, "I'm reporting no suspicious activities down here. Any sign of Haruto, Kate?"  
  
"No, nothing," Kate says, "see you on the second floor."  
  
"See you," Karasuma replies, and they both walk carefully upstairs, since the elevator has yet to be installed.  
  
The second floor is anticlimactic, revealing nothing worthwhile, and now Kate wonders where Kono has stashed Sakaki. Or if Kono is still in the building. Or if Sakaki is still alive. Or if Amon is even here. Speaking of Amon, where the hell is that ghost? Did Kono get him again?  
  
A motion at the corner of her eye catches her attention before she walks up the steps to the third floor. "Amon?" she asks, stepping away from the stairs.  
  
A flutter of clothes around the corner is the only response, and perhaps it's Kono, not Amon. She pulls out her gun and runs after it. The long- haired woman finally chases it down to a small room, one she'd quickly scanned because the door read "Men's Restroom." "Hold it right there!" she shouts, and the figure turns around slowly.  
  
If there were any light in the bathroom, Kate's face would be dead white. Instead, it is the figure in front of her who is both dead and white, providing a weak illumination against the pitch black of the room. "Mototsugu Kosaki," Kate whispers hoarsely, having seen the first victim's autopsied body in the reports. She's never seen ghosts before, why is she seeing one now?  
  
As if in answer to her question, the floating dead man turns again, pointing to the last stall. Cautiously, she nudges the stall door open with her gun, then stands with gun drawn. Inside, there is a glowing Ring of Ogham around the toilet, and, literally caught with his pants down, is Michio Kono. She doesn't know whether to laugh or sneer, then opts for both.  
  
"Kate!" Karasuma's voice crackles in her ear, "We found Haruto! Where are you?"  
  
"Still on the second floor," she says, looking around the bathroom. Kosaki's ghost has disappeared. Figures. "I found Kono." 


	12. Watching

To Aliora:  
  
I'm tired of hanging around dead people, Kate thinks, spraying a little perfume on, or people who are so tied to their work they're practically dead. The tall woman checks her reflection: long hair brushed to a glossy black, sassy halter top, snug leather pants, high heels, and a warm-enough trenchcoat. Nice. She pretends not to see the black car tailing her as she speeds along the highway, she might as well give them something fun to watch.  
  
Even a casual passerby would know the club she's stepping into is a very high-end, very loud, and very fashionable spot. All Kate does is smile at the bouncer, who steps back, and returns her smile. A simple cover fee, and she's in the club, shrugging her trenchcoat off in the room heated by the mass of body heat and possibly the loud volume of music. Grabbing a barstool, she waves at the bartender. "Midori!" she yells over the throbbing bass, handing over cash. He nods back, and she turns around to look at the crowd of humanity in the club. Nobody like Kono would hang out here, hell, nobody from STN-J would hang out here. Which is why this is the perfect place to unwind, since even Harry's crawls with coworkers from time to time.  
  
A tap on her shoulder, and she accept the drink. Already she's spotted some spoiled politicians' kids, a couple of random J-pop stars, and more than a few clubbers carrying some serious weapons. Kate smiles lazily, her foot tapping to the beat, and finishes her drink. When she turns around, the bartender hands her another drink. Her eyes raised, he jerks his head to another patron who looks very well-dressed, and not too drunk. She smiles, raises her drink, and takes a sip. As expected, he walks over, and after the usual inane shouted chatter about this and that, he leads her to the dance floor.  
  
On the floor, girls have out-of-season tans, garish makeup, skin-baring outfits, and high heels they barely stand up in, while the guys wear would- be thugwear, lounge lizard, or wannabe-yakuza suits. Kate's current suitor is a cross between yakuza and lounge, as she's gotten a glimpse of the tattoo peeking up the base of his neck. She doesn't care, she's faced little kids more dangerous than this man on her job. Right now, she's interested in having a good time, and she gets it, letting the mindless house music and very attentive dance partner take her mind off her Craft going a little nuts, seeing dead people, and her life.  
  
Then the man stiffens a little, and mumbles some excuse. She turns around and, with her Craft, sees a man with a gun heading towards them. She shakes her head, smiling, and lets him escape. It's none of her business, really, she doesn't want to deal with gangster politics, she has more important things to worry about. Like finding somebody else to dance with. Casually, she starts to make her way off the floor, when someone grabs her elbow.  
  
Turning, she sees a familiar face and smiles. "I was wondering when you'd show," she says, putting her arms around his neck.  
  
The man from the Clan of the Bull, better dressed now and smelling tons cleaner, shakes his head. "I don't know why you chose this place," he says into her ear.  
  
"Nobody will suspect," she says into his ear, putting her hands on his waist and drawing him closer. "Ready?"  
  
"Ready," he says, putting his hands on her back, and they look, for the most part, like a very intimate couple. In actuality, he's hijacking her Craft, and while they dance, they both keep a lookout for anyone suspicious. "Your partner is quite the stalker," he murmurs in her ear, and she laughs.  
  
"You should know," she retorts, and leans back as he runs his hands through her long hair. "Anything new?"  
  
"Security's not as tight as it used to be," he remarks. "Methuselah is out of town for the time being."  
  
"Good," she says, as she puts a hand on his tight ass. "Make sure it stays that way."  
  
They continue to dance until she begs him off. "I have to wake up early," she sighs, remembering she's only had a nap to tide her over.  
  
He kisses her. "I know," he says, brushing her hair away from her face, "thanks."  
  
She kisses him back, "Thank you." She waves before leaving, then walks out into the night, which is far from over for her. 


	13. Good Morning

To Aki Tari Nai:  
  
The next morning, Kate walks in, feeling very refreshed. She'd almost walk with a bounce in her step, but that would be overkill, so she's contented herself with wearing a classy blue and black ensemble. "Wow, looks like somebody had a good night's sleep," Sakaki remarks.  
  
"You could say I had a very good night," she smiles, and the teen blushes. Rubbing her neck, she asks, "So where is our fearless leader?"  
  
"Amon?" Karasuma asks. "Up with Zaizen."  
  
"Since early this morning," Michael adds, which raises everyone's eyebrows. "Told you he doesn't sleep much."  
  
Kate grins. "Well, he and Yurika would be a pair, she sleeps too much and he sleeps too little."  
  
"Kate!" Karasuma says, less shocked at the sentiment than the fact that she said it aloud.  
  
"Miho, those two are out more than any of us, I'm just thinking of their happiness," Kate says, her eyes looking upwards as if angelically. In reality, she's trying to read various memos and calendar notes on Zaizen's desk. Interesting, she thinks, keeping her expression somewhat impish. "Maybe I should wake up Yurika with the good news."  
  
In steps the would-be girlfriend in her usual stylish outfit, and way too colorful for the rest of the STN-J. "What good news?" the blonde girl asks, then yawns.  
  
Smiling a little, Kate replies, "My work partner could be," she puts a pinkie finger up, "your life partner."  
  
"Eek!" Doujima giggles, waving her hands, "no way! He's cute, in a mysterious, brooding way, but too moody for me." Then she tilts her head playfully. "Why don't you want to go out with him?"  
  
"For the exact same reasons," Kate says, smiling wider, and the rest sigh or grin.  
  
A man's cough brings them to attention. "Mr. Zaizen has a new assignment," Hattori says, bearing a tray with a single tea cup. Then he looks around. "Where's the chief?"  
  
"Oh, he went to wish an old friend happy birthday," Karasuma says, "remember?"  
  
The clerk puts the tray down. "I remember him yelling about the tea being lukewarm," he sighs.  
  
"Lukewarm tea would be the least of our worries if we've got a new hunt," Sakaki says, rushing past the harried older man into the conference room.  
  
Once everyone's assembled in the room, Zaizen says, "Today's target is this witch, Joji Takeda." He taps the monitor, and Michael starts typing away.  
  
"He's an unusual Craft user, borrowing powers from other witches," Amon adds. "We can assume he'll be hanging around more dangerous witches, so we should be on our guard." He glances at Kate, who looks noncommittally at him, then at the target onscreen.  
  
It's her dance partner of last night and mole into the Clan of the Bull, and if she hadn't seen his name on the memo upstairs, her face would be rather pale right now. 


	14. Judas Kiss

"Karasuma, take him on the left, I've got him on the right!" Sakaki says excitedly into his earpiece, gun out and trigger finger past itchy.  
  
"Haruto!" Karasuma yells, half as a warning, half as a sounding out. No reply. "Dammit." She runs around the left side of the building, "Kate, any sign of Haruto or the target?"  
  
"None," Kate says, still debating whether she should protect her source or turn him over now that his usefulness is almost done. She's standing on top of the building, and with the X-ray view her Craft gives her, the sight is almost dizzying. "Haruto should be coming around the right side, right?"  
  
"Right," Karasuma says, her eyes narrowed.  
  
"I don't see any movement from the right side," the long-haired woman reports, "no, wait a minute. There are two figures, I'm guessing the one in front is our target, and the other's Sakaki." She narrows her eyes, but it doesn't get any clearer. "I'm going to the elevator, I want a better view."  
  
"Okay," Karasuma says, "but be careful."  
  
"Don't worry," Kate smiles, "both of them are too far to even come close to hitting me. You'd have better luck catching Takeda than I would."  
  
"Hurry," Karasuma says, and there's an urgency in her voice that seems more concerned about her partner than about catching the prey.  
  
Kate watches as the numbers go backwards, tapping her foot impatiently. A few times, she tries to use her Craft to see if the vision is any clearer, but the figures, both male, are still too indistinguishable to tell who's who. And there's no word from her mysterious partner Amon, so she's hoping at least one of the figures might be him. That way, if Amon gets Takeda first, there's no way the weasel would spill the beans. If Karasuma got Takeda, Takeda may escape, but Miho's got some skills or she wouldn't be an S-class Hunter. And Sakaki? By his radio silence, she's guessing he's down for the count, being his usual heedless and impetuous self. Takeda's Craft is bad enough on a Craft user, but if he touches a normal human, it would be like a truck hit that person.  
  
"Come on, come on," she mutters, hitting the button several times as if that would make the elevator go faster. A movement catches her eye, and she shouts into her earpiece, "They've left the building! Karasuma, they're heading down the street into a dead end!" Kate jabs her thumb against the floor button, wishing her Craft enabled things to move faster.  
  
"Oh, no," she mutters, as one of the figures grabs Karasuma, and she knows it's not Amon. "Michael, get the Factory down here, we might need reinforcements."  
  
"Gotcha," the hacker replies, typing away.  
  
"Miho, I'm coming," Kate mutters as she finally bursts out into the night, trenchcoat practically flying behind her as she races to the scene.  
  
"No!" she yells, as Karasuma's slumped body and glassy eyes make the woman look like a doll rather than a person. Checking her pulse, she's somewhat relieved that her fellow Craft user is alive. Standing, she points her gun, not sure where Takeda's alliances lie. Or her own, for that matter.  
  
"For someone with the Sight, you don't see very well," a familiar voice says into her ear, grabbing her from behind.  
  
"Oh," Kate breathes as Takeda kisses her hard, and her gray eyes go glassy.  
  
"Liked that, didn't you?" Takeda grins.  
  
Kate can't speak, this is the first time he hasn't held his Craft back, and she can barely stand, much less breathe. Her eyes wide, her mouth still gasping, she shoots him in the chest with her orbo-loaded gun. Together, they slump to the ground, as if life-sized marionettes released from their strings. The last thing she sees is Amon standing over her. 


	15. Stakeout

"That was a good hunt yesterday," Amon remarks as they get into his car, and Kate pauses.  
  
"Thank you," she says, almost frowning. Did he just break his rule of superiority and actually compliment her? A portion of Hell must have frozen over. He hadn't said a word to her during the rather brief conference, since both Karasuma and Sakaki were in the hospital, recovering from their encounter with Takeda. "Shouldn't we take Yurika along for backup?"  
  
Amon looks at her as if she's slow. "Backup? This is only a stakeout."  
  
Kate sighs. Nope, Hell is still merrily burning and Amon is still his usual aloof, stony self. "Right," is all she says, locking the car door.  
  
They make a quick stop at the J-Mart for some food, and Kate is somewhat relieved to see him getting something as normal as junk food. For a while, she thought he existed on blood or something like that, since he never ate with anyone and was never seen eating. Of course, as a normal human he would also sleep and defecates, but neither of those have been proven, either, she smirks inwardly, adjusting the chair so it's more comfortable.  
  
"Don't fall asleep on me," Amon warns her abruptly as they speed along to their stakeout.  
  
"Don't worry," Kate says, "you'll never have to kiss me awake." His startled expression makes her grin, and, reminiscent of Doujima, she lazily crosses her arms behind her head and watches the scenery flash past. The night is so beautiful without all the streetlights, she thinks idly, it's nice to have an assignment outside the city.  
  
After what seems like hours, they come to a stop in front of a very rural- looking home. "I can't believe a witch would want to stay in a dump like that," Kate remarks, peering into the darkness with her Craft, while her partner uses night vision binoculars.  
  
"Some witches try to keep a low profile," Amon says, and she's not sure whether he's scolding her or making fun of her, both rub her the wrong way. "Unfortunately for this one, her powers didn't stay hidden."  
  
"Right," Kate says, leaning back.  
  
"Kate," he says in a voice that's clearly a warning.  
  
"Amon," she says in almost the same tone. "Don't worry, I can see right through you."  
  
"Don't waste your strength," he says, handing her another pair of night vision binoculars.  
  
She sighs. "Fine." Resigned, she adjusts her seat back to its normal upright position, keeping an eye on the house while Amon scopes the surrounding area. "Nothing. Maybe she got spooked and left for, I don't know, a more civilized area."  
  
"Or maybe not," Amon says, still looking through his binoculars, tinting everything in an unnatural green. Then he puts them down. "Come on." He opens his door and steps out.  
  
Kate's eyes widen. "Okay," she says, "but if you use me as bait, I'm shooting you before I shoot the witch."  
  
"I'd never do that to you," he says, and she can almost swear he's smiling.  
  
"Oh, so my first assignment as bait doesn't count," she huffs, stepping out of the car. "I see." She narrows her gray eyes and frowns. "I don't see any live being larger than a cat out here," she says, "maybe it's a trap."  
  
"Then we'd best be on our guard," her so-called partner says heartlessly, and she follows him into the old-fashioned wooden house. 


	16. This Old House

This old wooden house reminds her of those ghost stories told to schoolchildren before they know better. The noise of insects scuttling across threadbare tatami gives her goosebumps, the creaks the wood makes under her bare feet makes her nervous about leaving her boots at the front door, and the near-invisibility of her partner has her on edge. If he doesn't watch out, she will shoot him by mistake, and she knows it'll be in self-defense, the way this house creeps her out. Already, she's feeling about as trigger-happy as Sakaki, with better reason. Damn old house. It should be condemned.  
  
"Amon," she says in a low voice, hoping his earpiece is on, "see anything?"  
  
"No," is all he says.  
  
Well, at least he answered. Kate continues using her Craft, walking as carefully as she can, wondering if Amon has trained with ninjas to walk so quietly in this creaky wooden house. Maybe that's his Craft, sneaking around like a cat. She smiles briefly. It certainly would explain a lot of things.  
  
"Amon," she says again, "I don't see a damn thing. There should at least be some evidence, some victims. But this house, I don't think a human being has set foot in it before us."  
  
"She's here," he says in that maddening monotone.  
  
Yeah, say it often enough and the witch will just pop out like in the ghost stories. Kate bites her lower lip. Why is she thinking of ghost stories at a time like this? Could be that one of her recent hunts literally had her spooked, and the eerie atmosphere of this old house doesn't help. So help me, she thinks, if Amon suddenly appears, I am going to shoot him. And then take his car keys and get us the hell out of here.  
  
"I don't like it here," she says, "even Yurika would notice the bad vibes around this place."  
  
"Vibes?" he repeats mockingly.  
  
"Shut up," she says, wishing he didn't act like such a know-it-all whose face she'd love to smash in the mud. "You know what I mean. Even on our worst hunts, I've never felt this before."  
  
For a while, there is no answer, but when it comes, it sends chills up her spine. "This house was famous. It used to hold witches before they were sentenced to be burned."  
  
"Really," Kate says faintly. Well, the witch certainly has a sick sense of irony, that's for sure. She takes a deep breath and slowly exhales. I will not be scared. I will not be scared. I will not be --  
  
"Oh!" she gasps as she sees a figure materialize in front of her. 


	17. Fear Factor

"Damn cat!" she yells as her vision clears. It doesn't make her heart beat any less fast, and she glares at the feline who skips out of the room soundlessly. "Amon," she grates, and doesn't care if she sounds as whiny as Doujima, "let's get out of here. This place is a bust."  
  
"No, she's here," he says implacably.  
  
Kate sighs loudly and hopes she rattles his earpiece. "Fine. Okay. Let's just chase our tails," and the cat's glowing eyes wink at her, "or cats, okay? We might as well be chasing ghosts."  
  
Out of nowhere, Amon comes into view. "Is that what you think?"  
  
Automatically, Kate's finger is on the trigger. "Don't do that!" she glares at him. "Do you want me to shoot you?"  
  
He looks as calm, or emotionless, as ever, damn him, despite having a gun in his face. "You sure you're up to this?" he asks without any hint of concern. "Takeda got to you, too."  
  
"I'm fine," she snaps, lowering her gun. "I'm just surprised I haven't seen the target yet."  
  
"Perhaps she's seen us." He looks around the moonlit room, and the trees outside trace mottled shadows with the wind. "Perhaps she's just waiting to strike."  
  
"You sure know how to make a girl feel better," she says sourly. "All right," she says, and checks her weapon before marching forward, despite every fiber of her being screaming against it. She can't hear his footsteps behind her, and again, the thought he might be using a cat-like Craft comes to mind.  
  
When she finally does turn around to check on him, he's gone. Fine. Great. Be like that. Kate sets her jaw and narrows her gray eyes, her Craft in full force. She brushes her long hair away from her face and forces her hands to hold the gun steady in front of her as she goes deeper into the heart of the house. Her quick, unsteady steps matches the nervous beat of her heart, and, despite her previous experience on hunts, she feels more like the hunted than the hunter.  
  
Her heart hammering in her chest, Kate nudges the torn paper door open with her gun. Her weapon pointing in all directions, her breathing coming in shallow gasps, she looks desperately for the target. More than anything, she wants this hunt to be over. She knows she's behaving irrationally, fearfully, but she doesn't care. This place is freaking her out. "Amon," she says in a shaky voice, then clears it, "Amon! There's nobody here."  
  
No answer. Okay. Breathe, Kate, breathe. "Michael," she tries again, then taps her earpiece. The damn thing is dead. It's probably the witch, she thinks, pulling out her communicator hastily and drops it. "Dammit," she mutters, making her shaking fingers hit the right buttons. Nothing. Oh no. This is bad. "Michael," she whispers, as if it would help, then chucks the useless piece of technology to the floor. Quickly, she scans the room again, finding only roach and rat droppings, which doesn't make her feel any better. Where is the witch?  
  
Walking out of the room, Kate finds herself acting like some stupid bimbo in a horror flick, her eyes wide, her breathing fast and shallow, and stumbling over her feet. Her arms are shaking in spite of her best efforts to keep them steady, and, with some relief, sees the front door. She doesn't care if she's being a wimp, she's getting out of there. The long- haired woman shoves her feet into her boots, frowning as she taps her earpiece. Stupid gadget, she thinks, tossing it aside as well.  
  
Finally, she tries for simple aural contact, feeling a little braver now that she's out of that damn house. "Amon, I don't see her," she calls out, not caring if her shout makes her a target for the witch. "Where are you?"  
  
"Right here," the man in black says, stepping out from behind a tree, aiming his weapon at her. 


	18. Moment of Truth

"Amon!" she says, her gray eyes wide. Part of her isn't surprised, she's been expecting this for a while, but part of her is beyond freaked out, the psychological music of terror still playing on every nerve. And to her amazement, she's still standing. Wow.  
  
"You haven't been wearing your orbo for a while," he says dispassionately.  
  
"That's your excuse to shoot me?" she argues, backing away on shaky legs. No way is Mr. Goth sending her to the Factory for such a stupid reason.  
  
"You've been augmenting your powers illegally," he goes on in the same monotone. "You've been working with Takeda."  
  
"Oh, so everything I do has to pass Solomon's standards?" she raises an eyebrow, not getting any closer. For a Hunt, this is going pretty humanely, despite the haunted house session. They're actually talking, she and her usually uncommunicative partner. "Or Zaizen's?"  
  
"Give up, Kate," he says, his finger on the trigger. At this distance, he won't miss. Not that he always hits his targets, but Amon isn't known for missing at less than five meters.  
  
"I'm not going to the Factory!" Kate cries out, running for her life. Almost a heartbeat later, she hears the sharp report of his gun firing, but she keeps running, despite the darkness closing over her vision. He shot me, I can't believe he shot me! she thinks hysterically, her long legs taking her farther away from her pursuer.  
  
In a daze, she doesn't see her life flashing before her eyes. Instead, instinctively grabbing her arm and running, she sees something completely different. She sees the fifth floor of Raven's Loft, sunlight invading the STN-J office and almost washing out the drab outfits of the occupants. As usual, Michael is behind the computer, Miho and Haruto are lounging at their desks, Hattori carrying a stack of papers, Chief Kosaka nursing a headache probably due to Yurika being late again. It seems almost placid, a picture of office life in the STN-J. Suddenly the peaceful scene is interrupted with an explosion, a paramilitary team swarming into the office, and the team defending themselves desperately in this surprise attack. There is no sign of Yurika, which is normal, but there isn't any sign of Amon or herself, which is odd.  
  
Before Kate can process this strange vision further, explosions rocket within the firefight in her mind as well as registering faintly in her ears, and, confused, she runs out into what appears to be a wide open field in the night time.  
  
That turns out to be a big mistake, because she pitches over a rocky hill, and tumbles down, knocking herself out in the process.  
  
Alert and oriented times zero, Kate blinks in confusion. Where is she? What happened? And, for a few moments of sheer terror, she thinks, Who am I? All she knows is, she's outside, it's dark, and she's cold and scared. And she's... bleeding fluorescent green? She checks her arm. What the hell?  
  
As she touches the viscous substance on her arm, she grimaces. Orbo. And with that remembrance, she remembers everything else, including what just happened to her. I've been shot! Am I okay? She finds it's a superficial wound, but moving her arm too much stings, nonetheless. Dammit, Amon shot me!  
  
Her gray eyes grow as cold as the night air. How dare he? I'm no witch! She forces her panic down from her heart to her stomach, and keeps running. It's almost like old times, when she was a thief living on the streets of the Technology District, doing everything she could to survive. She sold stolen goods, she sold information to various thugs, but she wouldn't sell herself. And Solomon had tracked her down and, through an interrogation, she became a Hunter rather than a hunted witch or a common criminal. And now, the organization that took her in, trained her, and paid her is now hunting her like a dog. Damn them. She doesn't need them now, anyways.  
  
To her surprise and relief, she still has her orbo-loaded gun. Funny, she should've realized she was the target a while ago, but she'd gotten soft. Complacency in the home of the enemy is never wise, and she'd been very comfortable in STN-J, even after she hooked up with Takeda. I should have been better prepared, she thinks, wishing she had more weapons at her disposal, maybe even a few grenades to welcome Amon on his hunt. Still, she has her Craft, and she can see, if not hear, that bastard moving quickly and smoothly to where she's hiding.  
  
I don't know this terrain, she thinks, scanning the countryside, I know how to hide in the city better. And realizes that's why he picked this place. Great. Well, might as well go down swinging. Tearing off her trenchcoat, she hisses from the pain in her arm and fashions a makeshift scarecrow. Not a decent decoy, but it'll buy her some time. Propping her stand-in behind a suitable tree, she keeps moving.  
  
Houses, she thinks, her spirits rising a little. They might not have sympathetic people, but they'll have some decent transportation, she thinks, racing to the nearest home. Kate risks a quick glance behind, enough to see him toss the scarecrow aside angrily. Gotcha, she thinks, smiling a little as her legs continue to widen the distance between them. 


	19. Nirvana

"Nirvana"  
  
Desperately, Kate pulls open the truck door, thankful that country folk don't lock their vehicles, but frustrated when her efforts to hotwire the thing isn't working. "Come on, come on," she mutters, pulling out wires and jamming them together, "stupid thing." She knew she should've honed her hotwiring skills, especially for American-made trucks like this, but having a choice Solomon car made some skills obsolete. "Start, you stupid thing!"  
  
Before she can kickstart the thing, she sees Amon is only a few meters away in his car. "Damn him," she sighs, giving up on the truck. Of all the places she would have chosen to make a last stand in, a truck in the boondocks would not have occurred to her. Fine, she thinks, pulling out her gun, let's do it.  
  
"Give it up, Kate, the Factory is on their way," the man in the black ensemble tells her, once he's reached the door.  
  
"I thought we were the same, Amon," she needles him. Their black outfits, similar weapons pointed in similar stances, and their grim expressions almost make them mirror images.  
  
"You're a witch," he says in his implacable tone that would usually brook no argument.  
  
He needs to know the truth, not the lies their witch-fearing boss feeds him. "No, I'm not a witch. I'm a stray mutt, and I thought you were, too," she counters, her gun still aimed at him. "The problem is, I'm still just a damn street mongrel, but you're Zaizen's lapdog."  
  
"Kate," he says, his jaw clenching as he raises his gun from her chest to her head.  
  
"What are you doing?" an unfamiliar voice says. They both turn to see it's a farmer, and he's raising a nasty piece of farming instrumentation in their general direction. "My wife's calling the police."  
  
"I am with the police," Amon replies smoothly, not lowering his gun, "stay away from the woman. She's a dangerous criminal."  
  
Kate glares at her former partner, but doesn't plead her innocence. Instead, she points her gun at the farmer. "Drop it or I'll kill you."  
  
"Kate!" Amon yells, shooting her in the back.  
  
She staggers, but shoots the farmer in the chest. The farmer stares in shock, but throws the sharp tool at her, and it lands squarely in her skull, as she'd hoped it would. The farmer's not seriously injured, because to a normal human, being shot with orbo's like being shot with a blank, but it still smarts like nobody's business. Kate continues to unload the orbo bullets into the now-stunned farmer, despite the unbelievable pain until she runs out of bullets. Death by farmer, who would've believed, she thinks caustically with brains that are seeping into the hard earth.  
  
"Kate!" she hears someone distantly call out. She'd respond, but she doesn't know what to say, even as she feels the colors of life slipping away from her vision. Suddenly, the nightscene disappears as she sees Amon dragging some strawberry blonde teen into the lobby with the inoperable well. To her surprise, the girl torches the wall, blowing out a good portion of it so one could see across the street. A Craft user, she thinks, as Amon grabs the girl and shoves her into the well. The girl is being hunted and he's protecting her, she thinks, and a tear slides down her face. He's protecting a witch.  
  
She wants to tell him what she saw, she needs to tell him. Kate blinks, and Amon is bending over her, holding her, even though she can barely feel him. "I saw you," she says hoarsely, and smiles a little.  
  
"Kate?" Amon asks, and maybe she needs glasses, but he looks almost concerned. He shakes her a little, but she doesn't feel it at all.  
  
She tries to speak some more, tell him what she saw, but the capacity for speech, even for breathing, is beyond her now, and her unseeing gray eyes stare up at him, full of things even she can't comprehend.  
  
Nobody witnesses the dark-clad man shutting the long-haired woman's eyes and step away from her. Neither does anybody sees various emotions play over his normally withdrawn face, and they disappear as quickly as they come. He'd never admit to anyone, not even himself, that for a moment, she reminded him of his mother as she lay dying. As Amon pulls out his communicator, he walks away, and doesn't look back.  
  
"Epilogue"  
  
The sky is cold and gray, which befits the act being performed. The tall man with shaggy black hair and black Gothic clothes levels the earth over the small box of ashes with his foot, having muttered a brief, perfunctory prayer. Solomon really has no policy on funerals, so Amon paid out of his own pocket. There is no marker, no sign that there is a human buried here. He frowns a little. He didn't even know her last name, not that he gave out his own to his coworkers, but he'd rather have known that piece of information, even if it proved worthless. He suspected Kate didn't even know it.  
  
He thinks about her last words, how she believed they were mutts. He doesn't like to think she was right. The only difference was, she embraced her identity, which eventually led to her downfall, while he refuses to think of his precarious situation as a Seed. His scowl deepens. Coupled with the disturbing fact that she acted much like his mother did before she died didn't help matters.  
  
He turns away, not looking at the marked grave beside his self-made one. The one marked with "Nagira" and the single rose lying across it. A sudden downpour doesn't slow his pace, he merely hunches against the rain as he hunches against the memories he's successfully suppressed after all these years. Only one word escapes his lips. "Kate." Nobody, not even him, can tell whether he's sad, angry, or disappointed by this one word.  
  
THE END 


End file.
